


Coming Home

by rc1788



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: American Airlines, Freebird - Freeform, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Samsteve - Freeform, fite me, minor angst and major smut, the RAFT is a dumb but totally necessary place for sam and steve to fuck, this is 100 percent about the looks sam and steve give each other at the end of CA:CW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 15:48:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9278615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rc1788/pseuds/rc1788
Summary: Steve and Sam have exactly twenty minutes to kill while they wait for a vital data upload from the RAFT prison's main console.Guess. Just guess what happens.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oh_no_oh_dear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_no_oh_dear/gifts).



> A conversation about all the "weird places" Sam and Steve have fucked then turned into the obvious answer: the RAFT. Then I wrote this. AND IT IS YOUR FAULT, JO.
> 
> for some reason, no one has taken away my tumblr ([@samwichwilson](http://samwichwilson.tumblr.com)) yet

The rest of the team is safe and sound on the quinjet, exhausted and beat up but with their spirits intact. Steve brought enough supplies to get them properly fed and comfortable, then he asks for a little more time in the RAFT to collect intel. They needed all the intel they could get, being on their own from here on out. Clint gets to work disabling the alarm beacon for long enough to keep reinforcements from showing up.

Sam volunteers to help and Steve’s grateful for his company, even if he thinks Sam should be resting and recovering on the quinjet. But Steve would never insult Sam by telling him to stay behind, not after what they’d been through. Once they clear and secure the RAFT one last time, Sam helps drag all of the unconscious soldiers out of the control room.

“You okay?” Steve asks for about the eighteenth time. They're waiting for the datachip to upload its copy of the data from the main console.

“Yeah. I am.” Sam’s so good at putting on a brave face that he reminds Steve of himself. And that’s okay, for now, Steve thinks, because Sam won’t have to pretend for much longer. In a couple of hours, they’ll be safe and sound for a day or two. After that was anyone’s guess. “How long will the data copy take?”

“Twenty minutes or so.”

Steve lifts his eyes from the console he's leaned over. Sam is watching him with that unabashed longing in his eyes. He's had that glint of desire ever since they reunited by Sam’s holding cell. The look hadn't gone unnoticed by Steve, but the rescue mission came first. This is the first moment they'd had alone together since London and Steve feels that familiar pull in his gut, reaching toward his lower abdomen.

The way Sam is looking at him is already making him hard and Sam, knowing this, saunters up to Steve and slides a hand across the front of his shirt.

“Sam,” Steve says, barely a whisper. And if he was trying to chide the man for making him feel like this in a supermax government prison, then he'd done a poor job of it. “I missed you.”

Sam cups Steve’s chin and they kiss, sweet and tender, the gesture gentle and soft and in sharp contrast to the pulsing erection Steve can barely contain against the stiff fabric of his pants. When he inhales he smells Sam just as he is--the strong scent of stale sweat, the kind that only happens when they’ve been through a godawful fight. Steve wants to make all that go away for him, even if it’s just for a few minutes. He wants Sam so much that the fear of this place fades into the background, the pain of the past week a distant memory because he has Sam back--here, in front of him, touching him, and wanting him just as badly.

Sam doesn't have to tell Steve he missed him, too, he just has to slide his hands up Steve’s shirt and feel his way across the familiar muscles of Steve’s chest and back. His touch his possessive and his palms are rough, blunt nails scraping against Steve’s shoulder blades as he pulls Steve into him, deepens the kiss.

Steve’s still got his comlink in his ear, and he pulls it out, switches it off, and sets it aside. He’s used to being reckless and him and Sam _deserve this_. It's been since after Lagos when they arrived back at the compound that they got a private moment together. Just a quickie after the mission, a stressed out and quick fuck to get out the frustration.

Their time together after that had been marked with so many distractions and pain that Steve thought he'd never be able to let anybody in again. He already lost so much, and he couldn't lose Sam, either. Even the thought of it fills his head with that thick swell of grief that could make him cry at any second.

No, he's _got_ Sam, right here and now. Steve wraps his arms around Sam and just hugs him, breaks off their kiss and holds him close with his nose nestled into Sam’s neck. Breathing in and out everything that Sam is.

“Steve? You all right?”

“Yeah.” No. Worse than pain or sadness or grief, Steve felt _fear_ and it was so wholly terrible that he had to consciously push the dread away from the forefront of his mind. He hated fear more than anything, more than loneliness or sadness. Fear of losing Sam, fear of what he'd do without him.

“It's okay,” Sam says anyway. Steve’s heart aches because Sam sacrificed so much and somehow he's the one trying to comfort him.

Steve takes Sam’s waist into his hands and shifts them so Sam’s backed up against the console, and he kisses him hard, his tongue exploring into Sam’s mouth with lapping sweeps. Sam makes a muffled noise into the kiss just as Steve slides his fingers under the waistband of his pants.

“This okay?” Steve asks before he pulls down.

“Yeah,” Sam answers, breath hitching as the backs of Steve's fingers brush against his lower stomach. “Better make it quick though, Stevie.”

“I don't think I'll take very long,” Steve says with a shy grin.

Sam smirks and Steve pulls down the waistband of his pants, then Steve freezes. “What?” Sam demands.

“Oh, God. Sam. You’re--”

“It’s from the fight,” Sam insists.

Sam’s whole left side is black and blue from his rib cage to just past his hip. Steve’s eyes trail over the bruises and he makes a move to replace Sam’s pants where he found them, but Sam slaps his hands away. “Steve, please. We’ve fucked banged up worse before.”

“Most of those times were not my fault.”

Sam is quick to work off Steve’s belt and open up his pants, his hungry eyes full of delight when he uncovers Steve’s hard cock. “Oh, _really_?” He lets out a laugh. “There was not a single time I had to save your dumb ass from a situation and got hit?”

“Okay, _point_. But--not like--” Steve sucks in a breath of air between his teeth as Sam’s hand closes over his dick and gives him a stroke. “This.”

“Stop. Just let this happen.” Sam leans forward, murmurs in Steve's ear as he strokes him once, twice, harder, and his voice is smooth as silk and sends a shiver down Steve's spine. “Let us have this.”

Steve is torn by how much and how hard he wants to fuck Sam, but also how terribly relieved he is that Sam is safe. The two simultaneous thoughts collide and make him weak in the knees. He presses forward with his hips and pushes Sam so he's sitting on the console desk, and Steve gets Sam's pants pulled down the rest of the way.

“I promise I'll do it right for you soon, Sam.”

“What?”

Steve spreads Sam’s legs apart and bites down on his lip at the sight of him. “I---somewhere proper, you know, like a hotel or something with a bed and--”

“Just shut up and fuck me, Rogers.”

The rest of Steve’s promise dies on his lips as he reduced to a blushing mess at how rough Sam’s words are. _Shit_ , Steve thinks, Sam must be feeling just as desperate as he is. Sam grabs Steve's hand and puts his fingers to his lips, kisses, then he sucks on Steve's first two fingers. Steve strokes Sam’s cock the way he knows Sam likes it, with a half twist over the head. They're both moaning at each other's touches, and for a split second Steve's afraid Sam is going to make him come just by sucking on his fingers.

The way Sam touches him is so unique and familiar that Steve almost forgets they’re in enemy territory. Sometimes Steve gets this feeling that the only place he knows he can call home is when he’s with Sam, and when they’re caring for each other in ways nobody else can. It makes Steve feel guilty because he’s the only one without a home, and for Sam it’s not like that. Steve bites down on the insides of his lips and staves off the thought that Sam means more to him than the other way around. All Steve knows is, he loves Sam, to the point that it scares him.

Once Sam's mouth has Steve’s fingers good and wet, Steve moves his hand down between Sam's legs and presses inside of his hole. He's so warm and tight around Steve's finger, Steve starts to pulse in and out of him, unable to control a jerk of his hips as he wants so badly to be inside of Sam--

“Hurry up,” Sam grits, his head rolling backward. Steve’s gotta remind himself this isn’t one of their marathon love making sessions, and he’s glad for Sam taking charge. Steve loves taking orders from Sam, anyway. Steve delays just a bit longer, capturing Sam’s moan in a kiss when he slides his second finger inside.

Sam braces his knees up against Steve's chest as if to say _get on with it_ , and Steve spits into his palm and tries to get his dick as wet as possible (not so difficult, he finds out, with how much he’s already leaking). Then Steve positions his dick just touching the opening of Sam's hole. “God,” Sam swears as Steve pushes into him. “Oh--Steve--”

Steve meant to be gentle, he really did, but Sam’s got his fingers tangled in his hair and he's pulling and it hurts just a little, so Steve thrusts harder than he means to. Sam whimpers, that crease in his brow so damn pretty on his face as he concentrates on the pleasure of being fucked. Steve's nerves are sparked with the irrationally exquisite feeling of fucking into Sam steadily, like he's got all the time in the world.

“C’mon,” Sam says through his teeth. He scrapes his nails down the back of Steve’s head until he’s clinging to his neck. “Baby, please-- _harder_.”

Steve stops holding back, and he fucks Sam in earnest, each thrust a little quicker and harder than the last. He gets into that quick and shallow rhythm that's causing their skin to clap together and he doesn't care who hears them. Fuck this place, it's theirs now.

“You like that, Sammy?” Steve asks.

Sam's gripping at Steve's shirt trying to grab purchase as his body is rocked up against the console. He's breathing hard and mouthing wordlessly and Steve just wants his pretty face to look the way he likes it when he comes. And Sam’s getting close, too, Steve is barely perceptive of the way Sam’s toes are curling where he’s got his feet planted on his shoulders.

“Sam… sweetheart… come for me. Please.” Steve leans down and kisses him, his hand messily searching for and finding Sam’s dick. He brushes his thumb over the tip and Sam’s reduced to moaning and whimpering so beautifully. Sam pulls back from Steve’s mouth, his eyes heavily lidded and mouth gaping open as his head swims, searching for his orgasm in Steve’s thrusts and touch.

“Oh-- _mm_ \--” Sam gasps and presses his lips together.

“Sammy,” Steve pleads because he wants to hear Sam when he comes, but Sam’s kept it all to himself, moaning deep in his throat and chest as he spills out over Steve’s hand and his stomach. Damn if Sam still didn’t look so good and pretty when he came, though, and now Steve’s whole body is flushed and hotter than ever. Sam wets his lips, still coming down from his own orgasm, as he slips his hands up under Steve’s shirt.

Steve is panting and grunting as he fucks Sam, picking up the pace for half a minute until he can’t see straight and he has to grab onto Sam’s hips to steady himself.

“Jesus--” Sam swears, his back arching, and Steve finally _finally_ releases. Steve’s always been the loud one and even if it’s _irresponsible_ , he’s loud here, too. Sam tries to capture Steve’s come cry in a kiss and he’s more or less successful, shutting up Steve with their lips crushed together.

“Idiot,” Sam tells Steve when he’s done. His smirk is playful but he means it. “I should’ve known you couldn’t control yourself.”

Steve laughs, feeling like he’s walking on nothing but air, and he’s sure he’s blushing to the point of being comical. He doesn’t have a comeback for that, and Sam knows it. Steve’s starting to get that strange prickle crawling up the back of his neck as they disentangle from each other. It’s that uncomfortable feeling Steve often gets when he’s in an unfamiliar place with his guard down. Sam’s already putting up his guard again, his eyes losing their playful look, and his voice getting more cold and authoritative.

The data upload finishes with a _chirp_ from the console.

“Get my pants, hot stuff,” Sam says with a snort, and Steve can’t help but grin as he obeys. “We gotta go.”


End file.
